Here Be Dragons
by hollycharlie
Summary: The Freshies and the Salties live in the same river but are arch enemies. This is the story of how these two croc clans had to come together to fight a fierce battle in order to overcome an even more formidable enemy.
1. Chapter 1

**HERE BE DRAGONS**

**A CHILDREN'S STORY BY **

**HOLLYCHARLIE**

**A SYNOPSIS**

Set under the blazing Australian sun, 'Here Be Dragons' tells the story of two clans of crocodiles: the Freshies and the Salties, who live at different ends of the Crocodylus River. Because they are both peace-loving clans, they tolerate each others presence, but it is forbidden for Freshies and Salties to socialize. For several years the Freshies have had difficulty in producing healthy hatchlings, and when the leader, Death-Roll, sees that only three of her eggs have hatched, she is distraught.

One of the surviving three hatchlings is Snout, Death-Roll's youngest son, and he befriends Billabong, the youngest daughter of Scales, leader of the Salties. However, their secret friendship comes to an abrupt halt when the entire way of life of the Salties and the Freshies is threatened by a new clan of crocodiles - the Muggers - a clan of crocs renowned for taking over other crocs territories by force.

Legend tells that many years ago, long before the Salties arrived in the River, the Muggers had launched an attack on the Freshies, who at that time occupied the River alone. A great battle ensued which ended with the humiliating defeat of the Muggers. Acutus, the then leader of the Freshies and great, great grandfather of Death-Roll, had devised a scheme to trick the Muggers into falling into deep pits that had been dug all along the River's edge. This took care of all of the Muggers except one - the evil Muhma, leader of the Muggers. A great fight took place between Acutus and Muhma at the Great Meeting Rock, an historic place of much importance for the Freshies who, when feeling scared of lonely, would visit the Rock and raise their heads high up in the air in order to see the very top of it. They would then listen to the wind rushing around its peak and always a feeling of peace and reassurance would befall any croc who stood there. Acutus finally overcame Muhma, and peace was restored to the River once again.

Kimbula, the new leader of the Muggers, is well aware of the crushing defeat suffered all of those years ago, and is determined that history will not repeat itself. When a drought hits his own River, he sets out with 250 of his warriors, to take over the Crocodylus River. In his bid to do this, he enlists the help of Wetland and Ambush, elder brother and sister of Snout; two vain and ambitious crocs who do not hesitate to betray their own clan.

Death-Roll and Scales are called before the croc known as The Truthfinder, who is the River's Oracle, and he tells them they must stand together in order to defeat the Muggers. Neither clan is eager to do this, but any doubts about what they are up against are soon dissipated when the Muggers launch an unprovoked attack on the Freshie camp, killing many crocs in the process.

Around the same time, The Truthfinder is crocnapped by the Muggers and both the Freshies and the Salties begin to think that all is lost. However, deep inside the cave where the Muggers are keeping him hostage, The Truthfinder begins to chant The Calling, an art that has been passed down from Truthfinder to Truthfinder for many centuries. In The Calling, his mind shows him Snout and Billabong hiding behind Lagoon, a much loved and revered croc who had made it her life's work to teach all young crocs the ways of the River. She is fiercely defending them from the onslaught of the Muggers but is overwhelmed and finally succumbs to their vicious blows. Snout hears The Truthfinder Calling to him and soon begins to join in with The Calling and, much to the surprise of Billabong and the Muggers, he suddenly disappears.

Snout then finds himself beside The Truthfinder who tells him that his time as The Truthfinder is coming to an end, and it will be Snout who takes his place. Snout is not surprised by this, as he has always felt an affinity with nature, and for as long as he can remember the River has spoken to him and told him of things to come. The Truthfinder makes one last sacrifice for the River, by killing the Muggers head warrior, Bhakuna, before they both disappear. Even though he is very young and very scared, Snout then takes on the formidable task of becoming the new Truthfinder and, with the help of the River itself, he leads the Freshies and the Salties into victory over the Muggers.

Even though life can never be the same again, the Salties and the Freshies come together as a united force, and Death-Roll and Scales help to cement the new friendship by having a successful set of hatchlings who are both strong and healthy.

In the past, The Truthfinders have been solitary crocs, not wanting to take sides between the Freshies and the Salties, so they had lived alone somewhere near the Great Meeting Rock. However, now the two clans have come together, it seemed only natural to Snout and Billabong that they should set up home together, and this is what they do. Snout is sure, with the wise guidance of Billabong, that they can help restore peace and harmony to the Crocodylus River once more.

**THE END**

**These are the first five chapters of 'Here Be Dragons'**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Hatchlings**

The two-legs have a saying that has been passed down from generation to generation. Parents tell their children of the legend, on dark, cold nights as a warning for them to beware:

Stay away from the River,

And the dark, cold caverns.

Don't go near the water's edge,

Because Here Be Dragons …

All crocs know of the legendary River called Dragon's Crossing. It is a unique, mysterious place where for centuries the turbulent blue-green sea meets calmer, fresh grey waters, thus enabling two similar, but in many ways very different clans to co-exist, albeit somewhat uneasily. Today, strangely, the waters of Dragon's Crossing stood motionless. The wind had died down some time ago, leaving behind a silent, almost eerie atmosphere that pervaded every inch of the surrounding flora. Nothing stirred. The vegetation along the banks, static and inert, seemed to be holding its breath in expectation of a great event to come. The clouds no longer swept across the deep, azure-blue sky, but instead, like everything else, waited, unmoving, in eager anticipation. The silvery-green water was totally still, as if any kind of movement would disturb the mood that hung oppressively over the entire surroundings. No other creature seemed to be out that day, perhaps they were too afraid of getting in the way. It was in this unique place, where for centuries the sea has met fresh water, that a very special series of events were about to unfold.

A noise, soft at first, then stronger and louder, suddenly broke the still, air-less day. The mound of earth that had stood for the full ninety days, untouched and fiercely protected under the blistering sunshine, now began to move, giving up its secret hoard. A single clump of soil shifted and tumbled down the bank on its loan journey to the bottom of the immense nest. Then, as if the very earth was erupting all around, huge clumps of mud began to follow the first, and a faint squeaking sound arose from under the mound of dirt. Death-Roll stood stock still, her large green eyes fixed on her nest, watching the soil move faster now, more urgently with every passing minute. She held her breath.

"It has to be, this time there can be no room for failure," she said determinedly as she watched the first tiny snout peak out from beneath the earth and saw a miniature version of her own bright green eyes blink back at her against the dazzling sunlight. Death-Roll moved slowly forward, dragging her large olive-green body along the sandy banks until she reached the first hatchling. Frantically, she started to dig. Her huge claws; claws that on many occasions had killed with one massive swipe, were now used to gently move the earth away as she desperately tried to reach her calling children.

"Please, let them be alright this time," Death-Roll implored as she frantically began to uncover her brood. The first hatchling was in the process of wriggling its way free of its egg and she could see it panting with exhaustion. Death-Roll eyed it affectionately. It looked alright upon first inspection. She placed her long, narrow snout to one side and carefully tried to pick the hatchling up and secure him within the safety of her jaws, ensuring that her needle-like teeth did not harm him in any way. Finally managing to snatch the hatchling, along with the remains of its egg, up into her gaping mouth, she knew she must abandon her other offspring for the time being and take the hatchling down to the water's edge.

Turning her agile body in the direction of the River, she slid as quickly as she could into the safety of the water and, gently shaking her enormous jaws from side she side, she released the hatchling into a clump of weeds for camouflage, and it immediately began to swim as if he had been doing it for centuries. Death-Roll watched as the remains of the egg quickly attracted ravenous fish, who frenziedly tore at the membrane. She then hurriedly returned to her brood to collect the remaining hatchlings. There had been four altogether, but upon her return for the last one, she was devastated to see a Minatour lizard, its body swaying back and forth, clutching the tiny hatchling in its jaws and heading swiftly into the distance. Only three left! Out of the nest of twelve, four of her eggs had hatched but only three survived. She tested the remaining eggs with her teeth, all were infertile. She ate what remained of them - on Dragon's Crossing nothing went to waste.

"The others must survive," she said, hurrying back to the water to protect the surviving hatchlings from any passing predators, "for the sake of our future existence, they must survive."

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Secret Friendships**

"Mother said you shouldn't talk to her, and I'm going to tell," squealed Ambush, named by her mother as she had watched her young daughter's uncanny ability to make herself practically invisible and then take her pick of any passing prey. Some thought her pretty, though her eyes were rather close together, giving the impression that she was always frowning.

"I don't care, I like her and I'm going to play with her," retorted Snout, turning his back on Ambush and taking off after Billabong as fast as he could."

"Billie, wait for me!" he called after her quickly disappearing tail.

Billabong stopped and turned to face Snout.

"Look," she said, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to sting her eyes, "it's no good. You know we are not supposed to play together, we're only going to get into trouble."  
"But I don't get it," whined Snout, "what's wrong with us playing together?"  
"You know what's wrong. You're a Freshie and I'm a Saltie. Freshie's and Saltie's don't mix and that's the way our parents want it to stay."

"But that's stupid," snapped Snout, splashing his long, elegant tail behind him and making the water dance, "we are almost the same in every way, we've both got scales and we've both got teeth and we've both got tails," as he said this Snout splashed around Billabong showing off each part of his anatomy in turn. Despite her fear, Billabong could not help but laugh.

"You are daft," she said, giggling.

"You see, you do want to be my friend, don't you?"  
"You know I do," she replied coming closer and lowering her voice, fearful that they may be overheard, "but you know the rules."  
"The rules are stupid, and besides, I heard Wetland the other day say that rules are made to be broken."  
"You don't want to listen to anything that idiot says, your older brother's worse than you!"

Laughing, they inched their bodies closer and affectionately rubbed their snouts together. Despite Snout's attempts at pointing out how similar they were, the contrast between them was striking. Death-Roll had given Snout his name because, even for a Freshie, he had an exceptionally long and pointed nose. However, compared to Snout, Billabong's snout was already much broader than her companion. Her thick teeth were also totally dissimilar to his thin pointed ones. Their colour was very different, too. Billabong's scales were almost black, whilst Snout's olive-grey complexion and the row of four large scales on the back of his neck, stood in sharp contrast to Billabong's much larger, sleeker body.

"Hush," she said suddenly, bringing Snout's laughter to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" he demanded, "I can't hear anything."

Looking around, he noticed that the river had begun to gently ripple, sending out little circles of water that gradually grew larger and larger. This was followed by a loud splashing, accompanied by a low, guttural noise, which was the unmistakable signal of the approach of a very large, very powerful croc.

"It's Dad," said Billabong, shoving Snout in the side, propelling him forward, "you must go now, don't let him catch us together, he will be furious."

Snout needed no more persuading and promptly turned tail and fled as fast as he could back to the safety of his own territory.

Billabong silently trod water. Little ripples of greeny-blue water were fast approaching her and she held her breath, knowing what was on its way. First she saw two giant green eyes staring at her, then the top of an enormous snout emerged out of the water. Finally, she could make out the humungous form of her Father.

"I thought I told you young lady not to come this far Up River," growled Scales, "you know what will happen to you if you come into contact with those Freshies."

"Sorry, Dad," blurted out Billabong, "I was chasing a butterfly and must have forgotten how far I had come. You should have seen it, it was red and yellow and …"

"Enough!" boomed Scales, "your reckless nature will get you into trouble one of these days. Now get back home, your Mother is wondering where you are."

Billabong immediately pointed her snout towards home and, with a swish of her tail, propelled herself forward at high speed.

"Love you, Dad," she said in her usual cheery voice.

Scales did not reply but instead silently watched her go. He loved all of his children deeply, but Billabong commanded a special place in his heart. However, despite his soft spot for his youngest daughter, he was angry that she had ventured this far Up River, because Up River meant Freshie territory. The Freshie's, he knew, were ruled by a female known as Death-Roll. Even though he had never met her, he had heard of her great power, presence and spirit and how she was admired and revered by all she ruled. He had also heard from his loyal scout Swampy, that Billabong had struck up some kind of friendship with one of Death-Roll's offspring, and he was determined to put a stop to it. As far as Scales was concerned, as long as the Freshies kept Up River and did not interfere with his rule Down River, he was content. He had heard that the Freshies were having trouble breeding of late, reinforcing his opinion that he did not want his own kind mixing with a weak and feeble brood of crocs. It was a hard world out there, and knowing that it was the survival of the fittest, he had little sympathy for them. He well remembered how close his own clan had come to being wiped out when their food supply had dried up in their own territory, and he knew how unusual and precarious it was for these two clans to occupy the same stretch of river.

As their names suggest, the Freshies occupied fresh water, whilst the Salties occupied salt water, but times had changed. Territory was very hard to come by and all crocs had to take advantage of any space they could find. So when Scales had taken his clan and gone in search of a new food supply, the Salties had simply done what crocs had done for millions of years, they adapted their lifestyles to be able to exist in both fresh and salt water. So, as Scales now looked Up River it was with suspicion and uncertainty in his heart, but, trying to push these feelings into the furthest reaches of his mind, he turned his enormous green-black body in the direction of Down River and, with one last fleeting and distasteful glance Up River, followed Billabong back home.

**CHAPTER THREE**

**The Muggers**

Two piercing yellow eyes, the black vertical slit more prominent than in most crocs eyes, had been observing Scales and Billabong's every move, and now closed slowly in silent satisfaction. The owner of the eyes opened his jaws wide, showing his impressive row of sixty-six gleaming white teeth. Kimbula, leader of the Muggers, watched silently as Scales disappeared. He smiled. He was proud to be a Mugger, proud of the very name itself that had been given to them by the Ancient Indian Two-Legs. Mugger, meant 'Sea Monster,' and Kimbula liked that very much! He had heard many great things about Dragon's Crossing and, now his claws had been forced by circumstances beyond his control, after many weeks of arduous travelling, he finally stood on its banks. He knew Down River was controlled by the Salties, led by Scales, whilst Up River was in the command of the Freshies, led by Death-Roll. Now he had the chance to see Scales for himself, he realized that he certainly lived up to his reputation of being strong and commanding. Next he needed to see Death-Roll, the female he had heard so much about. Silently, Kimbula slipped into the River and, with a flick of his tail, made his way Up River. He needed to know exactly what he would be up against, if he was to stage a successful take-over bid.

"You are in big trouble, Scout, Mother's been looking for you everywhere," said Ambush, pushing her long, thin nose right up into his face. "I told her that you had been with that Saltie again, so she's really cross."  
"Oh, go away, Ambush, you tell-tale, you really get on my nerves, why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because it's mine and Wetland's job to look after you, that's why."

Snout chuckled. "Look after me! All you ever do is tell on me and get me into trouble. I don't need you or Wetland to look after me."

With that, Snout puffed out his chest and opened his jaws wide, showing off his impressive long, pointed teeth. Ambush simply laughed in his face.

"Don't try to act the big 'I Am' with me, sonny croc. Me and Wetland are your elders and betters so you better take notice of what we say."

Scout stared at her, blinking against the bright morning sunlight. He was just about to retaliate, when he heard a familiar voice coming from behind him.

"Snout, is that you, where have you been my lad?"

Snout froze. "Just swimming about," he said, dropping his head in shame at the lie he had just told.

"Now Snout, you know I won't stand for lies. Ambush told me what you have been doing," said Death-Roll, "you have been with that Saltie again, haven't you?"  
"Yes he has, I saw them together just now," butted in Ambush.

Snout glared at her.

Death-Roll sighed. "Really Snout, what am I to do with you? How many times have I told you not to go anywhere near Down River. Our home is here, Up River, this is where we are safe."

"Sorry Mum," said Snout, feeling guilty that he had gone against his mother's wishes yet again.

Death-Roll looked at her youngest son. Just six months old, and small for his age, he was still a fine looking young Freshie. Despite his tear-away nature, she was proud of him.

"Alright, Snout, go and find Lagoon, she has been waiting patiently to give you your hunting lesson."

Snout immediately cheered up. He liked Lagoon. She was the kindest, most playful croc Snout knew, always ready to take the young crocs in claw and teach them all they needed to know about hunting and the River in general. She was also a real good laugh, all of the young crocs loved her dearly. Whenever a croc felt down, you could always rely on Lagoon to cheer you up with a joke or a new game.

"OK Mum, see you later."

Snout hurried off, leaving Death-Roll and Ambush, who had now been joined by Wetland, staring after him.

"That boy is trouble, Mother, why are you so soft on him?" said Wetland, Death-Roll's eldest son.

"Don't question me, boy," she snarled, turning to face him full on and making him leap back in surprise.

"But … Wetland and me …" whined Ambush, "are only trying to look out for Snout, he's always going off and getting into trouble."

"You two let me worry about my crocs. I'm in charge here and more than capable of looking after you all."

"Yes, Mum," they both said, bowing their long snouts low and beginning to retreat backwards into the vegetation.

Death-Roll turned and began to make her way quickly back Up River where she had been summoned to take counsel. Wetland and Ambush watched her go.

"She's getting even softer in her old age," complained Wetland, "one of these days someone is going to make a bid to take over command from her if she's not careful."

Ambush shuddered. "You don't really think that would happen, do you? In any case, there are so few of us Freshie's these days that there isn't really anyone who could challenge her."

Wetland was silent for a long time. Then turning to Ambush, he said,

"Mother has ruled the Freshie Clan for as long as any croc can remember and has done a good job. But times are changing. Breeding has been a total disaster for us lately, only me, you and Snout have been born in the last three summers. Our numbers are rapidly declining and Mother is to blame."

Ambush listened intently. She was a cold, ambitious Freshie who had dreams of holding a position of power of her own some day. Her green eyes glistened in the sunlight as she listened to her brother making a stand against their own Mother.

"She is constantly rejecting newcomers who want to join us," Wetland was saying, "and therefore less and less new blood is entering our family. There is a distinct possibility that in the not too distant future, us Freshies may face the threat of total extinction."

Ambush gasped but still said nothing. She moved a little closer to Wetland in a sign of solidarity.

"I, for one, am determined that this will not happen and, once I have grown a little, I intend to mount a challenge to Mother's authority. Are you with me, Ambush?"

"Oh yes," hissed Ambush, moving even closer to him, "you are the only one who has the strength to put in a challenge and with me as your Second-in-Command, we will surely succeed."

"Good," said Wetland, "now all we have to do is wait."

"Oh, this is too perfect," purred Kimbula, clamping his jaws tightly shut to stop himself from laughing out loud. "I thought I would need all of my cunning and intelligence to out-wit these Dragon's Crossing lot but I see they have already started my job for me." Crouching silently in the bushes, Kimbula had listened intently to the conversations between Death-Roll and Snout, and then Wetland and Ambush. He had been impressed with Death-Roll. When his take over was complete, she would become his new mate. But now, he had work to do.

"Excuse me," he said, poking his large snout out of the undergrowth, making both Wetland and Ambush jump back in surprise, "but I couldn't help but over-hear your conversation, and I wondered if I may be of help."

Wetland and Ambush stared at the strange creature that was in front of them. He looked neither like a Freshie nor a Saltie and they were both immediately suspicious of him.

"Go and get Mother," hissed Wetland to Ambush, who began to turn tail and scarper after her Mother who, now she was scared, no longer seemed the weak and feeble creature they had made her out to be.

"Wait, please," said Kimbula, "I can help you, if you let me."

"How can you help us?" asked Ambush, eyeing the stranger coldly.

"I can help you achieve your ambition, and you won't have to wait until you have grown up, either."

"Look, mate," interjected Wetland, mustering up all of the courage he had to face this much larger croc in front of him, "I don't know who you think you are, but us Freshie's rule Up River and you're trespassing."

Kimbula laughed, slowly and deeply.  
"I'll tell you who I am, shall I," he smirked, "my name is Kimbula, ruler of the Muggers."

Both Wetland and Ambush gasped in horror. The Muggers! The Sea Monsters themselves! They of course had heard about the Great Battle and how the Muggers were legendary for their cruel and brutal take-overs of other Crocs territories. Fear and shock made them tremble from snout to claw.

"I see you have heard of us Muggers," said Kimbula, edging forward and sticking his huge snout right up into their faces, "that is good. You know then that we have a reputation for being brave and fearsome warriors, and that is how I can help you."

"Help us?" gulped Wetland in horror, "we don't want anything to do with the dreaded Muggers."  
Again, Kimbula laughed. "Not even if it means you can save your beloved Freshies from being killed off by that old and ignorant Mother of yours?"

Wetland paused momentarily and then said, "What exactly have you in mind?"

"Us Muggers have travelled a vast distance, all of the way from India, to reach the much-famed Dragon's Crossing. Our River failed to re-appear after the last dry season. No rains came, you see, and so we are in desperate need of new territory so we can raise our young to be healthy and strong. I have heard that the Freshie's are having trouble breeding, so I thought that there may be room for all of us to live in harmony together. But, having now just heard that your Mother is resistant to any new blood coming into her family, I realize that I need to talk to the next generation, who obviously are much cleverer and more capable than their ageing Mother."

"You mean, you would help us overthrow Death-Roll so we could take over the River?" said Ambush, her ambition and desire for power totally over-shadowing any suspicions she initially had about Kimbula.

"That's right, young lady, with you and your brother in control I know it would be possible for the Muggers and the Freshies to live in harmony in the River."

"What about the Salties?" said Wetland, "they may have something to say about it."  
"Why should they?" retorted Kimbula, "it's nothing to do with them. And anyway," he said, eyeing both Ambush and Wetland intently, "what is there to stop us taking over the River completely and getting rid of those meddling Salties altogether. They take up too much room, eat too much food and there won't be room for all of us, right?

"You mean," panted Wetland, "kill the Salties?"

"Life, my young friend, is all about survival and it is only the strong who survive. The Freshies and the Muggers will need all of the resources that Dragon's Crossing provides, so it is only right that the Salties must be eliminated."

Ambush, in her vanity and selfishness, began to imagine what it would be like to be rid of those pretty Saltie females, and have herself as the centre of attention. She had heard that, even though the Muggers were cruel and savage, they lacked beauty, and, if Kimbula's ugly snout was anything to go by, the female of the species would be no competition to her at all. She looked at Wetland. Wetland looked back.

"How many of you are there?" Wetland asked Kimbula.

"Two hundred and fifty-three," he replied, "all of them brave warriors, all of them willing to die for their fellow Muggers."

Wetland was taken a-back by the sheer numbers of the Muggers. The Freshies numbered only twenty-seven in total, and what would stop Kimbula from taking over completely? Kimbula seemed to read his mind.

"I know what you're thinking, lad," he said, "you think that us Muggers want to have the River all to ourselves, but this simply is not true. All we want is to live quietly here in the River. You and I could work together, we would make a great team. You and I could rule Dragon's Crosssing side by side."

"And what about me?" snapped Ambush indignantly, "I want to be in charge too."  
"Of course you do my dear," grinned Kimbula, "but you are _so _pretty and _so _clever I thought you might like to be in charge of the females. Our females are not so beautiful as you and you could teach them to make the most of themselves."  
Kimbula had tapped directly into Ambush's vanity and arrogance.

Smiling shyly, she said, "I would do my best, Kimbula, as I do have a reputation for my beauty."

"That does not surprise me in the least, my pretty one," returned Kimbula. "And one day, when you have grown, maybe you would do me the honour of becoming my wife."

Ambush blushed and blinked her large green eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," interrupted Wetland, bored with this kind of talk, "as long as you realize that I would have joint overall rule with you, Kimbula, then I will be with you all the way."

A rustle in the bushes made Wetland and Ambush freeze in terror. Had their Mother been listening? Had one of the Clan found out their plan already?

"Don't be afraid," said Kimbula, "it's only my very old friend and confidant, Makar."

A large, red-eyed beast emerged from the bushes and positioned himself by Kimbula's side. Ambush immediately turned her nose up at this disgusting looking creature. His whole body was covered with green slime, his teeth were nearly black and he let off the most offensive odour.

"Don't be alarmed," chuckled Kimbula, "I know dear old Makar is not the most good-looking of Muggers, but he is loyal and trustworthy and will be essential to us if our -"

"Ambush! Wetland! where are you?" A voice suddenly interrupted Kimbula and made them all turn around to see where it had come from.

"Who's that?" whispered Makar.

"It's only our stupid little brother, Snout, he's always getting in the way," answered Ambush.

"Ambush! Wetland! Lagoon says you have to come right away. Mother is waiting for us all to gather at the Great Meeting Rock and you are late."

"Who is Lagoon?" said Kimbula, keen to know what kind of opposition he was up against.

Wetland laughed. "Lagoon is the most stupid, irresponsible croc you could ever hope to meet. Even though she must be at least seventy years old, she acts just like an infant. She is always playing around with the young crocs and wanting to take us on expeditions up and down the river."  
Kimbula was intrigued. "Really, I would like to meet this grown-up croc who spends all of her time with the youngsters.

"Why?" squealed Ambush in disbelief, "she's no one special. Just an over-grown kid."

"Even so," purred Kimbula, "she sounds interesting to me. It is always good to know the croc who has the future generations interest at heart."

"Ambush! Wetland!" again from Snout who was getting closer now.

"You had better go," said Kimbula, "we will meet here again when the sun goes down tomorrow, now go before we are seen together."

Ambush and Wetland turned tail and headed off in the direction of Snout's calls. Kimbula and Makar watched them go.

"Did you hear everything?" said Kimbula, after he was sure the youngsters were out of ear-shot.

"Everything," confirmed Makar.

They were silent for a while, and then Kimbula said, "They are fools, we will easily manipulate them into doing anything we want them to do. This time they will not trick us like they did our ancestors at the Great Battle. And when we have them in our claws …"  
"Yes?" said Makar, opening his jaws a little wider in anticipation.

"We shall destroy them all."

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Lagoon**

Before most crocs had heard that they had been summoned to attend at the Great Meeting Rock, Lagoon had taken Snout and two of the elder juveniles, McKinlay and Esturaine, to explore the many caverns and labyrinths that were scattered all around the River. Lagoon loved nothing better then to take charge of the 'youngsters' as she referred to any croc who was more than twenty years her junior, and guide them Up River, teaching them how to sneak up on unsuspecting prey and to hone their hunting skills, thereby passing on the immense wealth of knowledge she had accumulated over the years. Lagoon had never been able to have crocs of her own, something that pained her deeply. Not only did she feel bereft of the opportunity of nurturing her own offspring, she also felt that she had let Death-Roll down because the Freshies so desperately needed young crocs to boost their ailing numbers. Death-Roll had assured her on many occasions that it was nonsense for her to feel this way, but Lagoon could not help herself. However, in an effort to compensate for not having her own crocs, she had decided to take it upon herself to love and educate any new croc that came her way.

"Watch yourself McKinlay," she cried, rushing forward to help him out of a group of reeds that he had become entangled in, "you really have to show more stealth, my love, if you are going to become a great hunter."

McKinlay shook the remaining strands of reeds from his body and blushed deeply. Esturaine giggled but nudged him affectionately.

"Right," said Lagoon, bringing herself up to her full height as she tried her best to look like a dangerous carnivore on the hunt for the tastiest of morsels, "we will form a line and approach the bank slowly and silently, only our nostrils and eyes will be above the water. This is how we prepare ourselves for a surprise attack when there is an antelope or the like taking a drink at the river's edge."

The four of them formed a line and slowly approached the River bank. Little ripples of water were the only signs that any activity was taking place. Lagoon was a very good teacher. Suddenly, she stopped and turned to face them.

"Oh, bother all of this!" she said, "it is far too boring to go hunting. Let's play a game of chase instead."

This was what the three youngsters had been wanting to hear. They knew it would not take Lagoon long to tire of her tutoring and a game of chase was just what they needed.

"Your It!" shouted Lagoon, tagging Snout on the tail and then fleeing with McKinlay and Esturaine close on her tail. Snout immediately gave chase and a game of tag ensued with much splashing, giggling and leaping about. Suddenly, their game was brought to an abrupt halt when Snout unexpectedly yelled, "Two-Legs, everyone take cover!"

Lagoon stopped dead in her tracks and looked around. She could see nothing. "Where are the Two-Legs?" she called to Snout who was already making his way back Up River in the direction of home.

"They are coming, I can see them in my mind," yelled Snout who was clearly very frightened, "please Lagoon you must come now."

Lagoon looked at McKinlay who in turn looked at Esturaine, confusion spreading across all of their faces.

"We can't see any Two-Legs," said Esturaine, "what do you mean you can see them in your mind?"

"I don't know," wailed Snout, becoming more and more agitated with their refusal to comply with his wishes.

"Look Snout," said McKinlay pushing his way passed Estauraine and Lagoon and facing him snout to snout, "I am not prepared to give up a perfectly good game of tag just because you are seeing things. Now let's get on with our game and …"

Estauraine screamed. As she did so Lagoon and Snout watched in horror has McKinlay was lifted bodily out of the river by a long, thin cord and dragged towards the river's edge. On the bank stood three Two-Legs who seemed as shocked and surprised as McKinlay himself.

"Let it go, it's a Dragon," screamed one of the Two-Legs. Not waiting for the Two-Legs to let the cord go, Lagoon leapt forward and sunk her teeth deep into it. It cut into her mouth and blood began to ooze down her teeth but she refused to let go. The three Two-Legs shouted and stumbled back in surprise. Lagoon turned herself round and round, over and over as she struggled to free McKinlay from the cord that was tight around his neck. Suddenly, the cord snapped and McKinlay was free.

"Swim children," shouted Lagoon, "swim as fast as you can back home. Do not stop, do not look back."

The three youngsters needed no more encouragement as they all turned tail and headed as quickly as they could back Up River. The nearer they got to home and the further away the Two-Legs became, their speed slowed until they came to an uneasy stop, panting and trying to catch their breath.

Lagoon looked long and hard at Snout. It had been an extraordinary thing for him to say he could see the Two-Legs in his mind and knew they were there long before she or the others did. Still, she was just glad that McKinlay was free and they were all OK.

"Don't tell Death-Roll will you?" pleaded McKinley "she will be cross that I nearly got caught by those Two-Legs."

Lagoon sighed. "I think this is an episode that we should all put behind us. You are safe, McKinlay, and that is all that matters so I do not think we need repeat it to any croc, right?"

They all readily agreed.

"Right," she said, "let's go home and we must be more careful in the future. Those Two-Legs are everywhere and a tragedy could have happened today."

The four of them smiled at each other. McKinlay and Estuarine seemed to have forgotten what Snout had said about seeing the Two-Legs in his mind, but Lagoon had most definitely not. She was intrigued - and just a little bit afraid.

**CHAPTER FIVE **

**The Truthfinder**

Every croc was anxious. An unexpected meeting had been called at the Great Meeting Rock and all crocs were worried. Some time before Death-Roll had called this meeting, she had been summoned to appear before The Truthfinder.

"I am here Truthfinder, why have you summoned me?" said Death-Roll.

"Patience, Death-Roll," said The Truthfinder in his usual low and gentle voice that gave all who heard it a sense of reassurance and security, "all in good time, there is another who has been called to see me and we must await his arrival."  
Despite The Truthfinder's comforting presence, Death-Roll was alarmed. In all the time she had been coming to take counsel with him, she had always been alone. Knowing that some other croc had been called was a great concern. Even though Death-Roll was eager to know who this other croc was, she knew no one questioned the Truthfinder.

No one knew where The Truthfinder had come from, he just Was, exactly the same as his predecessors had been. He lived alone, in a den on the banks of the Dragon's Crossing. He was the River's Oracle, the All-Seeing-All-Knowing One who was consulted whenever there were signs of trouble. The Truthfinder could see into the future, he had a way of communicating with nature that gave him insights into what was to be. Both the Salties and the Freshies consulted him. Each Family had often requested that he come and live with them where he would be taken care of, fed and tended to so he would not have to live all alone in his run-down den. The Truthfinder would never agree to this. He knew that his powers of foretelling the future left him vulnerable to feelings of hatred and resentment. Telling the Truth was not always easy, because he often told of things that crocs did not want to hear. And besides, he looked after all of the River, and knew he could never take sides between the Salties and the Freshies.

Presently, a rustling was heard in the bushes and, much to the surprise of each other, Death-Roll and Scales found themselves face to face.

"I don't understand Truthfinder," said Scales, "you summoned me to attend before you, what is Death-Roll doing here?"

"Oh, they are all so impatient," groaned The Truthfinder, "no croc stands still anymore and just listens to the world."

Death-Roll and Scales eyed each other suspiciously. Even though they knew each other instantly, they had never met in all the years each has ruled their own part of the River. Both knew that something serious must be a-claw.

"Let us stand still, root our claws to the ground and gather in the energy of the River, only then will we be able to face the task ahead."

Death-Roll and Scales were now even more worried. What task was The Truthfinder talking about? However, they also knew that there was no point in arguing with him, not that they would have dared anyway. After some considerable length of time, The Truthfinder stirred, moved his great tail to and fro and turned to face the awaiting leaders of the River.

"I have summoned both of you here today because there is a great trial ahead. The Freshies and the Salties will have to put aside their differences and come together if they are to survive."

Death-Roll and Scales were immediately alarmed.

"What trial is ahead of us, Truthfinder?" asked Scales.

"A trial even greater than The Great Battle itself. An evil presence has penetrated our River and is at this very moment plotting our downfall."

"You can't mean another take-over challenge?" gasped Death-Roll.

The Truthfinder paused, raised his mighty claw to his snout and closed his eyes.

"The wind does not carry any specific information about the particulars of this evil, but I know that the Freshies were enslaved once before and a similar fate may well be upon them again."

"Acutus overthrew the Muggers then, and we shall fight off any attack this time," said Death-Roll.  
"Ah," replied the Truthfinder, "but the last time the Muggers were lead by Muhma, a strong but dim-witted and vain croc who lacked the cunning and intelligence to lead his crocs to a permanent victory. This time, I fear, the challenge will be a much greater one."

Scales had listened in silence to what had been said. He had, of course, heard about The Great Battle but it was before the Salties had settled peacefully Down River so his own Family were not used to being challenged in this kind of way.

"Now you must both go back to your Families and prepare for war. I sense that the Muggers may have already infiltrated your ranks, and danger is fast approaching. Both the Salties and the Freshies must work together on this, or all will be lost."


	2. Chapter 2

**HERE BE DRAGONS**

**A CHILDREN'S STORY BY **

**HOLLYCHARLIE**

**A SYNOPSIS**

Set under the blazing Australian sun, 'Here Be Dragons' tells the story of two clans of crocodiles: the Freshies and the Salties, who live at different ends of the Crocodylus River. Because they are both peace-loving clans, they tolerate each others presence, but it is forbidden for Freshies and Salties to socialize. For several years the Freshies have had difficulty in producing healthy hatchlings, and when the leader, Death-Roll, sees that only three of her eggs have hatched, she is distraught.

One of the surviving three hatchlings is Snout, Death-Roll's youngest son, and he befriends Billabong, the youngest daughter of Scales, leader of the Salties. However, their secret friendship comes to an abrupt halt when the entire way of life of the Salties and the Freshies is threatened by a new clan of crocodiles - the Muggers - a clan of crocs renowned for taking over other crocs territories by force.

Legend tells that many years ago, long before the Salties arrived in the River, the Muggers had launched an attack on the Freshies, who at that time occupied the River alone. A great battle ensued which ended with the humiliating defeat of the Muggers. Acutus, the then leader of the Freshies and great, great grandfather of Death-Roll, had devised a scheme to trick the Muggers into falling into deep pits that had been dug all along the River's edge. This took care of all of the Muggers except one - the evil Muhma, leader of the Muggers. A great fight took place between Acutus and Muhma at the Great Meeting Rock, an historic place of much importance for the Freshies who, when feeling scared of lonely, would visit the Rock and raise their heads high up in the air in order to see the very top of it. They would then listen to the wind rushing around its peak and always a feeling of peace and reassurance would befall any croc who stood there. Acutus finally overcame Muhma, and peace was restored to the River once again.

Kimbula, the new leader of the Muggers, is well aware of the crushing defeat suffered all of those years ago, and is determined that history will not repeat itself. When a drought hits his own River, he sets out with 250 of his warriors, to take over the Crocodylus River. In his bid to do this, he enlists the help of Wetland and Ambush, elder brother and sister of Snout; two vain and ambitious crocs who do not hesitate to betray their own clan.

Death-Roll and Scales are called before the croc known as The Truthfinder, who is the River's Oracle, and he tells them they must stand together in order to defeat the Muggers. Neither clan is eager to do this, but any doubts about what they are up against are soon dissipated when the Muggers launch an unprovoked attack on the Freshie camp, killing many crocs in the process.

Around the same time, The Truthfinder is crocnapped by the Muggers and both the Freshies and the Salties begin to think that all is lost. However, deep inside the cave where the Muggers are keeping him hostage, The Truthfinder begins to chant The Calling, an art that has been passed down from Truthfinder to Truthfinder for many centuries. In The Calling, his mind shows him Snout and Billabong hiding behind Lagoon, a much loved and revered croc who had made it her life's work to teach all young crocs the ways of the River. She is fiercely defending them from the onslaught of the Muggers but is overwhelmed and finally succumbs to their vicious blows. Snout hears The Truthfinder Calling to him and soon begins to join in with The Calling and, much to the surprise of Billabong and the Muggers, he suddenly disappears.

Snout then finds himself beside The Truthfinder who tells him that his time as The Truthfinder is coming to an end, and it will be Snout who takes his place. Snout is not surprised by this, as he has always felt an affinity with nature, and for as long as he can remember the River has spoken to him and told him of things to come. The Truthfinder makes one last sacrifice for the River, by killing the Muggers head warrior, Bhakuna, before they both disappear. Even though he is very young and very scared, Snout then takes on the formidable task of becoming the new Truthfinder and, with the help of the River itself, he leads the Freshies and the Salties into victory over the Muggers.

Even though life can never be the same again, the Salties and the Freshies come together as a united force, and Death-Roll and Scales help to cement the new friendship by having a successful set of hatchlings who are both strong and healthy.

In the past, The Truthfinders have been solitary crocs, not wanting to take sides between the Freshies and the Salties, so they had lived alone somewhere near the Great Meeting Rock. However, now the two clans have come together, it seemed only natural to Snout and Billabong that they should set up home together, and this is what they do. Snout is sure, with the wise guidance of Billabong, that they can help restore peace and harmony to the Crocodylus River once more.

**THE END**

**These are the first five chapters of 'Here Be Dragons'**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Hatchlings**

The two-legs have a saying that has been passed down from generation to generation. Parents tell their children of the legend, on dark, cold nights as a warning for them to beware:

Stay away from the River,

And the dark, cold caverns.

Don't go near the water's edge,

Because Here Be Dragons …

All crocs know of the legendary River called Dragon's Crossing. It is a unique, mysterious place where for centuries the turbulent blue-green sea meets calmer, fresh grey waters, thus enabling two similar, but in many ways very different clans to co-exist, albeit somewhat uneasily. Today, strangely, the waters of Dragon's Crossing stood motionless. The wind had died down some time ago, leaving behind a silent, almost eerie atmosphere that pervaded every inch of the surrounding flora. Nothing stirred. The vegetation along the banks, static and inert, seemed to be holding its breath in expectation of a great event to come. The clouds no longer swept across the deep, azure-blue sky, but instead, like everything else, waited, unmoving, in eager anticipation. The silvery-green water was totally still, as if any kind of movement would disturb the mood that hung oppressively over the entire surroundings. No other creature seemed to be out that day, perhaps they were too afraid of getting in the way. It was in this unique place, where for centuries the sea has met fresh water, that a very special series of events were about to unfold.

A noise, soft at first, then stronger and louder, suddenly broke the still, air-less day. The mound of earth that had stood for the full ninety days, untouched and fiercely protected under the blistering sunshine, now began to move, giving up its secret hoard. A single clump of soil shifted and tumbled down the bank on its loan journey to the bottom of the immense nest. Then, as if the very earth was erupting all around, huge clumps of mud began to follow the first, and a faint squeaking sound arose from under the mound of dirt. Death-Roll stood stock still, her large green eyes fixed on her nest, watching the soil move faster now, more urgently with every passing minute. She held her breath.

"It has to be, this time there can be no room for failure," she said determinedly as she watched the first tiny snout peak out from beneath the earth and saw a miniature version of her own bright green eyes blink back at her against the dazzling sunlight. Death-Roll moved slowly forward, dragging her large olive-green body along the sandy banks until she reached the first hatchling. Frantically, she started to dig. Her huge claws; claws that on many occasions had killed with one massive swipe, were now used to gently move the earth away as she desperately tried to reach her calling children.

"Please, let them be alright this time," Death-Roll implored as she frantically began to uncover her brood. The first hatchling was in the process of wriggling its way free of its egg and she could see it panting with exhaustion. Death-Roll eyed it affectionately. It looked alright upon first inspection. She placed her long, narrow snout to one side and carefully tried to pick the hatchling up and secure him within the safety of her jaws, ensuring that her needle-like teeth did not harm him in any way. Finally managing to snatch the hatchling, along with the remains of its egg, up into her gaping mouth, she knew she must abandon her other offspring for the time being and take the hatchling down to the water's edge.

Turning her agile body in the direction of the River, she slid as quickly as she could into the safety of the water and, gently shaking her enormous jaws from side she side, she released the hatchling into a clump of weeds for camouflage, and it immediately began to swim as if he had been doing it for centuries. Death-Roll watched as the remains of the egg quickly attracted ravenous fish, who frenziedly tore at the membrane. She then hurriedly returned to her brood to collect the remaining hatchlings. There had been four altogether, but upon her return for the last one, she was devastated to see a Minatour lizard, its body swaying back and forth, clutching the tiny hatchling in its jaws and heading swiftly into the distance. Only three left! Out of the nest of twelve, four of her eggs had hatched but only three survived. She tested the remaining eggs with her teeth, all were infertile. She ate what remained of them - on Dragon's Crossing nothing went to waste.

"The others must survive," she said, hurrying back to the water to protect the surviving hatchlings from any passing predators, "for the sake of our future existence, they must survive."

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Secret Friendships**

"Mother said you shouldn't talk to her, and I'm going to tell," squealed Ambush, named by her mother as she had watched her young daughter's uncanny ability to make herself practically invisible and then take her pick of any passing prey. Some thought her pretty, though her eyes were rather close together, giving the impression that she was always frowning.

"I don't care, I like her and I'm going to play with her," retorted Snout, turning his back on Ambush and taking off after Billabong as fast as he could."

"Billie, wait for me!" he called after her quickly disappearing tail.

Billabong stopped and turned to face Snout.

"Look," she said, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to sting her eyes, "it's no good. You know we are not supposed to play together, we're only going to get into trouble."  
"But I don't get it," whined Snout, "what's wrong with us playing together?"  
"You know what's wrong. You're a Freshie and I'm a Saltie. Freshie's and Saltie's don't mix and that's the way our parents want it to stay."

"But that's stupid," snapped Snout, splashing his long, elegant tail behind him and making the water dance, "we are almost the same in every way, we've both got scales and we've both got teeth and we've both got tails," as he said this Snout splashed around Billabong showing off each part of his anatomy in turn. Despite her fear, Billabong could not help but laugh.

"You are daft," she said, giggling.

"You see, you do want to be my friend, don't you?"  
"You know I do," she replied coming closer and lowering her voice, fearful that they may be overheard, "but you know the rules."  
"The rules are stupid, and besides, I heard Wetland the other day say that rules are made to be broken."  
"You don't want to listen to anything that idiot says, your older brother's worse than you!"

Laughing, they inched their bodies closer and affectionately rubbed their snouts together. Despite Snout's attempts at pointing out how similar they were, the contrast between them was striking. Death-Roll had given Snout his name because, even for a Freshie, he had an exceptionally long and pointed nose. However, compared to Snout, Billabong's snout was already much broader than her companion. Her thick teeth were also totally dissimilar to his thin pointed ones. Their colour was very different, too. Billabong's scales were almost black, whilst Snout's olive-grey complexion and the row of four large scales on the back of his neck, stood in sharp contrast to Billabong's much larger, sleeker body.

"Hush," she said suddenly, bringing Snout's laughter to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" he demanded, "I can't hear anything."

Looking around, he noticed that the river had begun to gently ripple, sending out little circles of water that gradually grew larger and larger. This was followed by a loud splashing, accompanied by a low, guttural noise, which was the unmistakable signal of the approach of a very large, very powerful croc.

"It's Dad," said Billabong, shoving Snout in the side, propelling him forward, "you must go now, don't let him catch us together, he will be furious."

Snout needed no more persuading and promptly turned tail and fled as fast as he could back to the safety of his own territory.

Billabong silently trod water. Little ripples of greeny-blue water were fast approaching her and she held her breath, knowing what was on its way. First she saw two giant green eyes staring at her, then the top of an enormous snout emerged out of the water. Finally, she could make out the humungous form of her Father.

"I thought I told you young lady not to come this far Up River," growled Scales, "you know what will happen to you if you come into contact with those Freshies."

"Sorry, Dad," blurted out Billabong, "I was chasing a butterfly and must have forgotten how far I had come. You should have seen it, it was red and yellow and …"

"Enough!" boomed Scales, "your reckless nature will get you into trouble one of these days. Now get back home, your Mother is wondering where you are."

Billabong immediately pointed her snout towards home and, with a swish of her tail, propelled herself forward at high speed.

"Love you, Dad," she said in her usual cheery voice.

Scales did not reply but instead silently watched her go. He loved all of his children deeply, but Billabong commanded a special place in his heart. However, despite his soft spot for his youngest daughter, he was angry that she had ventured this far Up River, because Up River meant Freshie territory. The Freshie's, he knew, were ruled by a female known as Death-Roll. Even though he had never met her, he had heard of her great power, presence and spirit and how she was admired and revered by all she ruled. He had also heard from his loyal scout Swampy, that Billabong had struck up some kind of friendship with one of Death-Roll's offspring, and he was determined to put a stop to it. As far as Scales was concerned, as long as the Freshies kept Up River and did not interfere with his rule Down River, he was content. He had heard that the Freshies were having trouble breeding of late, reinforcing his opinion that he did not want his own kind mixing with a weak and feeble brood of crocs. It was a hard world out there, and knowing that it was the survival of the fittest, he had little sympathy for them. He well remembered how close his own clan had come to being wiped out when their food supply had dried up in their own territory, and he knew how unusual and precarious it was for these two clans to occupy the same stretch of river.

As their names suggest, the Freshies occupied fresh water, whilst the Salties occupied salt water, but times had changed. Territory was very hard to come by and all crocs had to take advantage of any space they could find. So when Scales had taken his clan and gone in search of a new food supply, the Salties had simply done what crocs had done for millions of years, they adapted their lifestyles to be able to exist in both fresh and salt water. So, as Scales now looked Up River it was with suspicion and uncertainty in his heart, but, trying to push these feelings into the furthest reaches of his mind, he turned his enormous green-black body in the direction of Down River and, with one last fleeting and distasteful glance Up River, followed Billabong back home.

**CHAPTER THREE**

**The Muggers**

Two piercing yellow eyes, the black vertical slit more prominent than in most crocs eyes, had been observing Scales and Billabong's every move, and now closed slowly in silent satisfaction. The owner of the eyes opened his jaws wide, showing his impressive row of sixty-six gleaming white teeth. Kimbula, leader of the Muggers, watched silently as Scales disappeared. He smiled. He was proud to be a Mugger, proud of the very name itself that had been given to them by the Ancient Indian Two-Legs. Mugger, meant 'Sea Monster,' and Kimbula liked that very much! He had heard many great things about Dragon's Crossing and, now his claws had been forced by circumstances beyond his control, after many weeks of arduous travelling, he finally stood on its banks. He knew Down River was controlled by the Salties, led by Scales, whilst Up River was in the command of the Freshies, led by Death-Roll. Now he had the chance to see Scales for himself, he realized that he certainly lived up to his reputation of being strong and commanding. Next he needed to see Death-Roll, the female he had heard so much about. Silently, Kimbula slipped into the River and, with a flick of his tail, made his way Up River. He needed to know exactly what he would be up against, if he was to stage a successful take-over bid.

"You are in big trouble, Scout, Mother's been looking for you everywhere," said Ambush, pushing her long, thin nose right up into his face. "I told her that you had been with that Saltie again, so she's really cross."  
"Oh, go away, Ambush, you tell-tale, you really get on my nerves, why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because it's mine and Wetland's job to look after you, that's why."

Snout chuckled. "Look after me! All you ever do is tell on me and get me into trouble. I don't need you or Wetland to look after me."

With that, Snout puffed out his chest and opened his jaws wide, showing off his impressive long, pointed teeth. Ambush simply laughed in his face.

"Don't try to act the big 'I Am' with me, sonny croc. Me and Wetland are your elders and betters so you better take notice of what we say."

Scout stared at her, blinking against the bright morning sunlight. He was just about to retaliate, when he heard a familiar voice coming from behind him.

"Snout, is that you, where have you been my lad?"

Snout froze. "Just swimming about," he said, dropping his head in shame at the lie he had just told.

"Now Snout, you know I won't stand for lies. Ambush told me what you have been doing," said Death-Roll, "you have been with that Saltie again, haven't you?"  
"Yes he has, I saw them together just now," butted in Ambush.

Snout glared at her.

Death-Roll sighed. "Really Snout, what am I to do with you? How many times have I told you not to go anywhere near Down River. Our home is here, Up River, this is where we are safe."

"Sorry Mum," said Snout, feeling guilty that he had gone against his mother's wishes yet again.

Death-Roll looked at her youngest son. Just six months old, and small for his age, he was still a fine looking young Freshie. Despite his tear-away nature, she was proud of him.

"Alright, Snout, go and find Lagoon, she has been waiting patiently to give you your hunting lesson."

Snout immediately cheered up. He liked Lagoon. She was the kindest, most playful croc Snout knew, always ready to take the young crocs in claw and teach them all they needed to know about hunting and the River in general. She was also a real good laugh, all of the young crocs loved her dearly. Whenever a croc felt down, you could always rely on Lagoon to cheer you up with a joke or a new game.

"OK Mum, see you later."

Snout hurried off, leaving Death-Roll and Ambush, who had now been joined by Wetland, staring after him.

"That boy is trouble, Mother, why are you so soft on him?" said Wetland, Death-Roll's eldest son.

"Don't question me, boy," she snarled, turning to face him full on and making him leap back in surprise.

"But … Wetland and me …" whined Ambush, "are only trying to look out for Snout, he's always going off and getting into trouble."

"You two let me worry about my crocs. I'm in charge here and more than capable of looking after you all."

"Yes, Mum," they both said, bowing their long snouts low and beginning to retreat backwards into the vegetation.

Death-Roll turned and began to make her way quickly back Up River where she had been summoned to take counsel. Wetland and Ambush watched her go.

"She's getting even softer in her old age," complained Wetland, "one of these days someone is going to make a bid to take over command from her if she's not careful."

Ambush shuddered. "You don't really think that would happen, do you? In any case, there are so few of us Freshie's these days that there isn't really anyone who could challenge her."

Wetland was silent for a long time. Then turning to Ambush, he said,

"Mother has ruled the Freshie Clan for as long as any croc can remember and has done a good job. But times are changing. Breeding has been a total disaster for us lately, only me, you and Snout have been born in the last three summers. Our numbers are rapidly declining and Mother is to blame."

Ambush listened intently. She was a cold, ambitious Freshie who had dreams of holding a position of power of her own some day. Her green eyes glistened in the sunlight as she listened to her brother making a stand against their own Mother.

"She is constantly rejecting newcomers who want to join us," Wetland was saying, "and therefore less and less new blood is entering our family. There is a distinct possibility that in the not too distant future, us Freshies may face the threat of total extinction."

Ambush gasped but still said nothing. She moved a little closer to Wetland in a sign of solidarity.

"I, for one, am determined that this will not happen and, once I have grown a little, I intend to mount a challenge to Mother's authority. Are you with me, Ambush?"

"Oh yes," hissed Ambush, moving even closer to him, "you are the only one who has the strength to put in a challenge and with me as your Second-in-Command, we will surely succeed."

"Good," said Wetland, "now all we have to do is wait."

"Oh, this is too perfect," purred Kimbula, clamping his jaws tightly shut to stop himself from laughing out loud. "I thought I would need all of my cunning and intelligence to out-wit these Dragon's Crossing lot but I see they have already started my job for me." Crouching silently in the bushes, Kimbula had listened intently to the conversations between Death-Roll and Snout, and then Wetland and Ambush. He had been impressed with Death-Roll. When his take over was complete, she would become his new mate. But now, he had work to do.

"Excuse me," he said, poking his large snout out of the undergrowth, making both Wetland and Ambush jump back in surprise, "but I couldn't help but over-hear your conversation, and I wondered if I may be of help."

Wetland and Ambush stared at the strange creature that was in front of them. He looked neither like a Freshie nor a Saltie and they were both immediately suspicious of him.

"Go and get Mother," hissed Wetland to Ambush, who began to turn tail and scarper after her Mother who, now she was scared, no longer seemed the weak and feeble creature they had made her out to be.

"Wait, please," said Kimbula, "I can help you, if you let me."

"How can you help us?" asked Ambush, eyeing the stranger coldly.

"I can help you achieve your ambition, and you won't have to wait until you have grown up, either."

"Look, mate," interjected Wetland, mustering up all of the courage he had to face this much larger croc in front of him, "I don't know who you think you are, but us Freshie's rule Up River and you're trespassing."

Kimbula laughed, slowly and deeply.  
"I'll tell you who I am, shall I," he smirked, "my name is Kimbula, ruler of the Muggers."

Both Wetland and Ambush gasped in horror. The Muggers! The Sea Monsters themselves! They of course had heard about the Great Battle and how the Muggers were legendary for their cruel and brutal take-overs of other Crocs territories. Fear and shock made them tremble from snout to claw.

"I see you have heard of us Muggers," said Kimbula, edging forward and sticking his huge snout right up into their faces, "that is good. You know then that we have a reputation for being brave and fearsome warriors, and that is how I can help you."

"Help us?" gulped Wetland in horror, "we don't want anything to do with the dreaded Muggers."  
Again, Kimbula laughed. "Not even if it means you can save your beloved Freshies from being killed off by that old and ignorant Mother of yours?"

Wetland paused momentarily and then said, "What exactly have you in mind?"

"Us Muggers have travelled a vast distance, all of the way from India, to reach the much-famed Dragon's Crossing. Our River failed to re-appear after the last dry season. No rains came, you see, and so we are in desperate need of new territory so we can raise our young to be healthy and strong. I have heard that the Freshie's are having trouble breeding, so I thought that there may be room for all of us to live in harmony together. But, having now just heard that your Mother is resistant to any new blood coming into her family, I realize that I need to talk to the next generation, who obviously are much cleverer and more capable than their ageing Mother."

"You mean, you would help us overthrow Death-Roll so we could take over the River?" said Ambush, her ambition and desire for power totally over-shadowing any suspicions she initially had about Kimbula.

"That's right, young lady, with you and your brother in control I know it would be possible for the Muggers and the Freshies to live in harmony in the River."

"What about the Salties?" said Wetland, "they may have something to say about it."  
"Why should they?" retorted Kimbula, "it's nothing to do with them. And anyway," he said, eyeing both Ambush and Wetland intently, "what is there to stop us taking over the River completely and getting rid of those meddling Salties altogether. They take up too much room, eat too much food and there won't be room for all of us, right?

"You mean," panted Wetland, "kill the Salties?"

"Life, my young friend, is all about survival and it is only the strong who survive. The Freshies and the Muggers will need all of the resources that Dragon's Crossing provides, so it is only right that the Salties must be eliminated."

Ambush, in her vanity and selfishness, began to imagine what it would be like to be rid of those pretty Saltie females, and have herself as the centre of attention. She had heard that, even though the Muggers were cruel and savage, they lacked beauty, and, if Kimbula's ugly snout was anything to go by, the female of the species would be no competition to her at all. She looked at Wetland. Wetland looked back.

"How many of you are there?" Wetland asked Kimbula.

"Two hundred and fifty-three," he replied, "all of them brave warriors, all of them willing to die for their fellow Muggers."

Wetland was taken a-back by the sheer numbers of the Muggers. The Freshies numbered only twenty-seven in total, and what would stop Kimbula from taking over completely? Kimbula seemed to read his mind.

"I know what you're thinking, lad," he said, "you think that us Muggers want to have the River all to ourselves, but this simply is not true. All we want is to live quietly here in the River. You and I could work together, we would make a great team. You and I could rule Dragon's Crosssing side by side."

"And what about me?" snapped Ambush indignantly, "I want to be in charge too."  
"Of course you do my dear," grinned Kimbula, "but you are _so _pretty and _so _clever I thought you might like to be in charge of the females. Our females are not so beautiful as you and you could teach them to make the most of themselves."  
Kimbula had tapped directly into Ambush's vanity and arrogance.

Smiling shyly, she said, "I would do my best, Kimbula, as I do have a reputation for my beauty."

"That does not surprise me in the least, my pretty one," returned Kimbula. "And one day, when you have grown, maybe you would do me the honour of becoming my wife."

Ambush blushed and blinked her large green eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," interrupted Wetland, bored with this kind of talk, "as long as you realize that I would have joint overall rule with you, Kimbula, then I will be with you all the way."

A rustle in the bushes made Wetland and Ambush freeze in terror. Had their Mother been listening? Had one of the Clan found out their plan already?

"Don't be afraid," said Kimbula, "it's only my very old friend and confidant, Makar."

A large, red-eyed beast emerged from the bushes and positioned himself by Kimbula's side. Ambush immediately turned her nose up at this disgusting looking creature. His whole body was covered with green slime, his teeth were nearly black and he let off the most offensive odour.

"Don't be alarmed," chuckled Kimbula, "I know dear old Makar is not the most good-looking of Muggers, but he is loyal and trustworthy and will be essential to us if our -"

"Ambush! Wetland! where are you?" A voice suddenly interrupted Kimbula and made them all turn around to see where it had come from.

"Who's that?" whispered Makar.

"It's only our stupid little brother, Snout, he's always getting in the way," answered Ambush.

"Ambush! Wetland! Lagoon says you have to come right away. Mother is waiting for us all to gather at the Great Meeting Rock and you are late."

"Who is Lagoon?" said Kimbula, keen to know what kind of opposition he was up against.

Wetland laughed. "Lagoon is the most stupid, irresponsible croc you could ever hope to meet. Even though she must be at least seventy years old, she acts just like an infant. She is always playing around with the young crocs and wanting to take us on expeditions up and down the river."  
Kimbula was intrigued. "Really, I would like to meet this grown-up croc who spends all of her time with the youngsters.

"Why?" squealed Ambush in disbelief, "she's no one special. Just an over-grown kid."

"Even so," purred Kimbula, "she sounds interesting to me. It is always good to know the croc who has the future generations interest at heart."

"Ambush! Wetland!" again from Snout who was getting closer now.

"You had better go," said Kimbula, "we will meet here again when the sun goes down tomorrow, now go before we are seen together."

Ambush and Wetland turned tail and headed off in the direction of Snout's calls. Kimbula and Makar watched them go.

"Did you hear everything?" said Kimbula, after he was sure the youngsters were out of ear-shot.

"Everything," confirmed Makar.

They were silent for a while, and then Kimbula said, "They are fools, we will easily manipulate them into doing anything we want them to do. This time they will not trick us like they did our ancestors at the Great Battle. And when we have them in our claws …"  
"Yes?" said Makar, opening his jaws a little wider in anticipation.

"We shall destroy them all."

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Lagoon**

Before most crocs had heard that they had been summoned to attend at the Great Meeting Rock, Lagoon had taken Snout and two of the elder juveniles, McKinlay and Esturaine, to explore the many caverns and labyrinths that were scattered all around the River. Lagoon loved nothing better then to take charge of the 'youngsters' as she referred to any croc who was more than twenty years her junior, and guide them Up River, teaching them how to sneak up on unsuspecting prey and to hone their hunting skills, thereby passing on the immense wealth of knowledge she had accumulated over the years. Lagoon had never been able to have crocs of her own, something that pained her deeply. Not only did she feel bereft of the opportunity of nurturing her own offspring, she also felt that she had let Death-Roll down because the Freshies so desperately needed young crocs to boost their ailing numbers. Death-Roll had assured her on many occasions that it was nonsense for her to feel this way, but Lagoon could not help herself. However, in an effort to compensate for not having her own crocs, she had decided to take it upon herself to love and educate any new croc that came her way.

"Watch yourself McKinlay," she cried, rushing forward to help him out of a group of reeds that he had become entangled in, "you really have to show more stealth, my love, if you are going to become a great hunter."

McKinlay shook the remaining strands of reeds from his body and blushed deeply. Esturaine giggled but nudged him affectionately.

"Right," said Lagoon, bringing herself up to her full height as she tried her best to look like a dangerous carnivore on the hunt for the tastiest of morsels, "we will form a line and approach the bank slowly and silently, only our nostrils and eyes will be above the water. This is how we prepare ourselves for a surprise attack when there is an antelope or the like taking a drink at the river's edge."

The four of them formed a line and slowly approached the River bank. Little ripples of water were the only signs that any activity was taking place. Lagoon was a very good teacher. Suddenly, she stopped and turned to face them.

"Oh, bother all of this!" she said, "it is far too boring to go hunting. Let's play a game of chase instead."

This was what the three youngsters had been wanting to hear. They knew it would not take Lagoon long to tire of her tutoring and a game of chase was just what they needed.

"Your It!" shouted Lagoon, tagging Snout on the tail and then fleeing with McKinlay and Esturaine close on her tail. Snout immediately gave chase and a game of tag ensued with much splashing, giggling and leaping about. Suddenly, their game was brought to an abrupt halt when Snout unexpectedly yelled, "Two-Legs, everyone take cover!"

Lagoon stopped dead in her tracks and looked around. She could see nothing. "Where are the Two-Legs?" she called to Snout who was already making his way back Up River in the direction of home.

"They are coming, I can see them in my mind," yelled Snout who was clearly very frightened, "please Lagoon you must come now."

Lagoon looked at McKinlay who in turn looked at Esturaine, confusion spreading across all of their faces.

"We can't see any Two-Legs," said Esturaine, "what do you mean you can see them in your mind?"

"I don't know," wailed Snout, becoming more and more agitated with their refusal to comply with his wishes.

"Look Snout," said McKinlay pushing his way passed Estauraine and Lagoon and facing him snout to snout, "I am not prepared to give up a perfectly good game of tag just because you are seeing things. Now let's get on with our game and …"

Estauraine screamed. As she did so Lagoon and Snout watched in horror has McKinlay was lifted bodily out of the river by a long, thin cord and dragged towards the river's edge. On the bank stood three Two-Legs who seemed as shocked and surprised as McKinlay himself.

"Let it go, it's a Dragon," screamed one of the Two-Legs. Not waiting for the Two-Legs to let the cord go, Lagoon leapt forward and sunk her teeth deep into it. It cut into her mouth and blood began to ooze down her teeth but she refused to let go. The three Two-Legs shouted and stumbled back in surprise. Lagoon turned herself round and round, over and over as she struggled to free McKinlay from the cord that was tight around his neck. Suddenly, the cord snapped and McKinlay was free.

"Swim children," shouted Lagoon, "swim as fast as you can back home. Do not stop, do not look back."

The three youngsters needed no more encouragement as they all turned tail and headed as quickly as they could back Up River. The nearer they got to home and the further away the Two-Legs became, their speed slowed until they came to an uneasy stop, panting and trying to catch their breath.

Lagoon looked long and hard at Snout. It had been an extraordinary thing for him to say he could see the Two-Legs in his mind and knew they were there long before she or the others did. Still, she was just glad that McKinlay was free and they were all OK.

"Don't tell Death-Roll will you?" pleaded McKinley "she will be cross that I nearly got caught by those Two-Legs."

Lagoon sighed. "I think this is an episode that we should all put behind us. You are safe, McKinlay, and that is all that matters so I do not think we need repeat it to any croc, right?"

They all readily agreed.

"Right," she said, "let's go home and we must be more careful in the future. Those Two-Legs are everywhere and a tragedy could have happened today."

The four of them smiled at each other. McKinlay and Estuarine seemed to have forgotten what Snout had said about seeing the Two-Legs in his mind, but Lagoon had most definitely not. She was intrigued - and just a little bit afraid.

**CHAPTER FIVE **

**The Truthfinder**

Every croc was anxious. An unexpected meeting had been called at the Great Meeting Rock and all crocs were worried. Some time before Death-Roll had called this meeting, she had been summoned to appear before The Truthfinder.

"I am here Truthfinder, why have you summoned me?" said Death-Roll.

"Patience, Death-Roll," said The Truthfinder in his usual low and gentle voice that gave all who heard it a sense of reassurance and security, "all in good time, there is another who has been called to see me and we must await his arrival."  
Despite The Truthfinder's comforting presence, Death-Roll was alarmed. In all the time she had been coming to take counsel with him, she had always been alone. Knowing that some other croc had been called was a great concern. Even though Death-Roll was eager to know who this other croc was, she knew no one questioned the Truthfinder.

No one knew where The Truthfinder had come from, he just Was, exactly the same as his predecessors had been. He lived alone, in a den on the banks of the Dragon's Crossing. He was the River's Oracle, the All-Seeing-All-Knowing One who was consulted whenever there were signs of trouble. The Truthfinder could see into the future, he had a way of communicating with nature that gave him insights into what was to be. Both the Salties and the Freshies consulted him. Each Family had often requested that he come and live with them where he would be taken care of, fed and tended to so he would not have to live all alone in his run-down den. The Truthfinder would never agree to this. He knew that his powers of foretelling the future left him vulnerable to feelings of hatred and resentment. Telling the Truth was not always easy, because he often told of things that crocs did not want to hear. And besides, he looked after all of the River, and knew he could never take sides between the Salties and the Freshies.

Presently, a rustling was heard in the bushes and, much to the surprise of each other, Death-Roll and Scales found themselves face to face.

"I don't understand Truthfinder," said Scales, "you summoned me to attend before you, what is Death-Roll doing here?"

"Oh, they are all so impatient," groaned The Truthfinder, "no croc stands still anymore and just listens to the world."

Death-Roll and Scales eyed each other suspiciously. Even though they knew each other instantly, they had never met in all the years each has ruled their own part of the River. Both knew that something serious must be a-claw.

"Let us stand still, root our claws to the ground and gather in the energy of the River, only then will we be able to face the task ahead."

Death-Roll and Scales were now even more worried. What task was The Truthfinder talking about? However, they also knew that there was no point in arguing with him, not that they would have dared anyway. After some considerable length of time, The Truthfinder stirred, moved his great tail to and fro and turned to face the awaiting leaders of the River.

"I have summoned both of you here today because there is a great trial ahead. The Freshies and the Salties will have to put aside their differences and come together if they are to survive."

Death-Roll and Scales were immediately alarmed.

"What trial is ahead of us, Truthfinder?" asked Scales.

"A trial even greater than The Great Battle itself. An evil presence has penetrated our River and is at this very moment plotting our downfall."

"You can't mean another take-over challenge?" gasped Death-Roll.

The Truthfinder paused, raised his mighty claw to his snout and closed his eyes.

"The wind does not carry any specific information about the particulars of this evil, but I know that the Freshies were enslaved once before and a similar fate may well be upon them again."

"Acutus overthrew the Muggers then, and we shall fight off any attack this time," said Death-Roll.  
"Ah," replied the Truthfinder, "but the last time the Muggers were lead by Muhma, a strong but dim-witted and vain croc who lacked the cunning and intelligence to lead his crocs to a permanent victory. This time, I fear, the challenge will be a much greater one."

Scales had listened in silence to what had been said. He had, of course, heard about The Great Battle but it was before the Salties had settled peacefully Down River so his own Family were not used to being challenged in this kind of way.

"Now you must both go back to your Families and prepare for war. I sense that the Muggers may have already infiltrated your ranks, and danger is fast approaching. Both the Salties and the Freshies must work together on this, or all will be lost."


End file.
